


Forever, My Love

by Seraph_Novak



Series: Destiel One-Shots [45]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Dimension Travel, Episode: s15e14 Last Holiday, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraph_Novak/pseuds/Seraph_Novak
Summary: Dean becomes quite attached to the interdimensional geoscope when he realises he can peek into the lives of endless versions of himself.He likes the dimensions where he and Cas have actually sorted out their crap the most, even if it hurts to watch what he knows he'll never be able to have.But everything changes when he stumbles upon a dimension on the verge of being destroyed, a dimension where he and Cas are the only survivors left in the bunker, clinging onto each other in their final moments...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel One-Shots [45]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/351392
Comments: 35
Kudos: 164





	Forever, My Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I missed my boys so much, so I'm really glad this episode finally gave me the inspiration to write them again.
> 
> I have absolutely no idea how an interdimensional geoscope would work, but this idea seemed very intriguing to me. Plus, we're just gonna ignore Cas' deal with The Empty, okay? Nothing but happy endings here. For our version of Dean and Cas, at least.
> 
> If you enjoy it, please consider leaving a comment! Every piece of feedback honestly means the world to me. Thank you so much for reading ❤️

Dean had got into the habit of checking the geoscope every day, usually while Sam was out on his morning run, and Mrs. Butters was busy teaching Jack how to bake. He could snatch around twenty minutes of privacy, if he timed it right. It was never enough to satisfy him, but he doubted anything but a lifetime of staring through the magical eyepiece would ever be enough. Sure, it made him feel like a fucking peeping Tom, but there was something so irresistibly addictive about the geoscope; he knew he’d reached a point in his life where there was no turning back, no realistic chance of making any drastic, life-changing decisions that could spin him in a whole new direction, _a better direction_ , but that didn’t mean he couldn’t bask in the accomplishments of his interdimensional counterparts. Even the gut-wrenching crash he almost always experienced after tearing himself away wasn’t enough to discourage him. He _needed_ his daily fix, no matter how crappy and self-pitying it made him feel in the aftermath. He _needed_ to remind himself that somewhere out there, in another lifetime, he’d had the balls to make all the right decisions, that he wasn’t a stinking coward in every dimension. 

With that in mind, he quietly slipped through the gap of his bedroom door, scanning the corridors left and right before slinking off towards the library, keeping his footsteps as light and delicate as he could manage. Sam’s door was already open, his bed neatly made and his running shoes nowhere to be seen. If he was sticking to his usual routine, which was normally the case on the days they weren’t hunting, he wouldn’t be back for at least another hour. 

As he made his way into the library, he could hear the distant clang of pots and pans being pulled from their various places in the kitchen; he couldn’t smell the rich, buttery aroma of pancakes yet, however, which meant he probably had at least half an hour before Mrs. Butters and Jack whipped up the batter and started making breakfast. He had plenty of time. 

With one last glance around the room, Dean pulled up a chair and positioned himself behind the geoscope, shaking out his hands and blinking his eyes to make sure they wouldn’t start stinging straight away. He hated having to pull away from the geoscope before he was ready, the gloomy normalcy of his own reality never failing to dampen the golden rush of warmth and joy that settled inside his chest while immersing himself in other dimensions. By now, he knew which ones to avoid, and which ones hit the right spot; his hands worked on autopilot as he adjusted the various buttons and dials hidden on the lidded panel beneath the eyepiece, the controls that allowed him to focus on specific dimensions. He had his favourites, of course, but he liked to switch things up now and again. Plus, the other dimensions were slowly but surely falling off the radar, no doubt due to Chuck’s celestial tantrum; he was trashing all the toys he no longer played with at an exponential rate, making it increasingly harder for Dean to find any half-decent dimensions that didn’t make him want to fucking bawl his eyes out. Without the option of being picky, he could settle on just about any dimension where the vast majority of his friends and family were still alive (Sammy and Cas were a dealbreaker) and they hadn’t all spiralled into a dark, depressive state of complete and utter hopelessness yet. 

But the dimensions that really did it for him, the ones he purposely sought out when he needed a pick-me-up, were the ones where he was actually happy. And not just him, but Sam and Cas and Jack and Eileen and even his mom, in the rare dimensions where she was still alive. He loved spying on these dimensions, not just because they were full of genuine smiles and laughter, but because they always included one thing – one insane, dizzying factor that had almost given him a fucking heart attack the first time he stumbled across it. Even now, after weeks of adjusting to the heart-stuttering notion that multiple versions of himself had managed to take the plunge he’d never even considered taking himself until recently, his breath still caught in back of his throat every time he switched to one of these dimensions, the geoscope automatically directing him to wherever the ‘other Dean’ was hanging around, and found himself in a compromising position with Cas, usually pressed up against a wall somewhere with the angel’s tongue shoved down his throat, or sometimes nestled quietly together in some private corner of the bunker, simply holding each other close. Those were the situations that really got to him, the ones that filled him with an aching sense of longing that left him walking in a trance for hours after abandoning the geoscope. Sam and Jack would bombard him with questions of concern whenever he got into one of those states, and Mrs. Butters would simply fix him with a knowing smile and slide a plate of grilled cheese towards him, a gesture that never failed to lift his spirits. 

It was a shock, that’s for sure. He didn’t really know if it even made any sense, if that was something he’d ever have the guts to do, even in a dimension where things usually went according to plan, and the good times generally outweighed the bad. But, even so, he found himself craving those crazy snippets of lust and comfort, imagining his own Cas, the version he’d continuously stomped on and treated like crap for over a decade, holding him with the same level of gentleness and care, gazing down at him with the same adoration in his eyes as he carded those long, nimble fingers through his hair... It was something the real him, the version staring desperately down an interdimensional geoscope like he was a fucking addict seeking his next high, could never possibly deserve. 

But that didn’t stop him from wanting it. 

He flipped through a few of his regular channels, a lump steadily rising in his throat as he kept coming up with nothing but darkness, the interdimensional version of TV static. There was only one thing all that nothingness could mean, but he tried not to think too hard on it. He couldn’t bear the thought of all those worlds, all those versions of him and Sam and Cas and every other sorry sucker on earth no longer existing. Had they been together when all those dimensions were wiped out? Had all those versions of him and Cas managed to share one final kiss before the end, or did they not even see it coming? Not even get a chance to say goodbye, to tell each other how much they – 

“Fuck.”

There was bile stinging the back of his throat, his eyes filling with tears that spilled down his cheeks as he scrubbed a hand over his face, the breath sweeping out of him in one long, deflating shudder. He shoved his chair away from the geoscope and closed his eyes for a moment, the blood rushing loud and hot inside his head. After a while, the familiar smell of pancakes wafted into the room, the triumphant tittering of Mrs. Butters stirring him from his reverie. He swallowed thickly and sat up in his chair. He only had a few more minutes before Jack came galloping into the library to announce breakfast, no doubt grinning from ear to ear like a little kid. This time tomorrow, it wouldn’t surprise him if every single dimension in the geoscope was no longer visible. Shit, it wouldn’t be long before their _own_ dimension was nothing but a forgotten smear of nothingness. This might be his last chance to selfishly indulge himself in all the beautiful what-ifs of the universe, and there was no way in hell he was going to pass that up.

He allowed himself another deep breath, then dragged his chair back towards the geoscope, ignoring the burn of tears as he peered into the eyepiece once more. Fiddling with one of the dials for a few moments managed to transport him to a version of himself sitting down in what appeared to be the bunker’s dungeon, his head hanging in his hands. He was about to switch over, already sensing this wasn’t a happy dimension, when Cas appeared in the frame, slowly approaching Dean like a wounded animal before sitting down beside him, his arm sliding around his shoulders. Almost immediately, Dean barrelled into his chest, his hands clutching at the front of Cas’ shirt. He wasn’t crying, not quite, but his shoulders were shaking with silent, tearless sobs. It was like he had nothing left inside him to cry out. 

“It’s over,” he said, his voice hollow. He lifted his head and regarded Cas closely. “How long d’you think we’ve got?”

Cas pressed his lips together, arm tightening around him. “Not long.”

“Days? Hours?”

“I’m thinking minutes, Dean.”

“Fuck.”

“Chuck is done playing his games. He’s won. There’s no reason to drag this out.” He tipped his head back, eyes screwed shut. This version of Cas was apparently more powerful than his; there was a brief flash of white-blue light in his pupils as he opened his eyes again, the lines in his forehead smoothing out as the rush of power ebbed away. “I’m detecting unusual levels of radiation in the atmosphere. I think it will all be over very soon.”

Dean barked a wet laugh and nuzzled his head against Cas’ shoulder. “At least it’ll be quick. Not like it was for Sammy.”

“Dean...”

“It’s not fair, Cas. It wasn’t supposed to end this way, ya know?”

“I know.” Cas rubbed his nose against Dean’s scalp, breathing him in. It was hard to tell from a distance, but it looked like he was kissing his hair. At least this version of them had seemingly managed to get their crap together before the end. “I won’t leave you, my love. I’ll be here.”

Well, that was new.

“Promise?”

“Always,” Cas whispered, dragging his lips softly against Dean’s temple, until their mouths connected in a chaste kiss. Dean’s eyes were still closed when they parted, his hands trembling against Cas’ chest. He looked so fucking small like that, but somehow unafraid. Maybe it was the fact that dying in a blazing fire was a lot less scary than living in a world without his brother, or maybe it was the angel wrapped around him, kissing his cheek and stroking his back. Either way, he looked at peace. Or as peaceful as anyone could hope to be when the world was coming to an end. 

“Do you think... heaven’ll still exist?” Dean asked. He seemed hesitant to voice the question, almost bashful, as if he already knew the answer, but was naively hoping for Cas to prove him wrong. 

After a beat of telling silence, Cas raised Dean’s chin with the pad of his thumb and gently cupped his cheek. He was wearing a crooked smile, the one that lifted one side of his mouth with a lazy flash of teeth, his eyes lidded softly. Dean had only seen it a couple times before in his own dimension, usually when Cas was depressed or deluded or fucking possessed. It made a nice change to see it directed at him, or a _version_ of him, with nothing but love behind its meaning. What he wouldn’t give to see his own Cas looking at him like that someday. 

“Do you remember our wedding?” Cas asked, changing the subject in an endearingly awkward way. It was only then that he noticed the bands on their fingers: Dean’s broad and gold, Cas’ narrow and silver. Some would probably call them mismatched, but they were alike in their simplicity, their understated beauty. They looked perfect next to each other as Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s and lifted their hands to his lips, kissing the golden ring. “It was quite the occasion.”

“I remember you blowing me at the reception,” Dean replied with a grin, his eyes trained on the rings as they brushed against each other. “Couldn’t get the fucking stain outta your tie. Had to pretend it was cake.”

“No one believed us.”

“Nope.” Dean chuckled under his breath. He was getting sleepy, if the slurring of his voice was anything to go by. The impending heat of destruction was likely pressing around them, making it difficult to breathe. He could feel his own chest staggering in response, as if he was there with them. He knew he shouldn’t be watching, should’ve pulled away as soon as he realised what was going on, but he couldn’t seem to move his hands. His fingers were wrapped around the dial with a vicelike grip, his jaw tightly clenched. He had to see this through, no matter how painful it proved to be. 

In the other dimension, Cas’ gaze had turned solemn, his throat squeezing up and down. As an angel, he didn’t need to breathe, but he still appeared to be struggling. Or maybe it was the tears gathering in his eyes, saturating the usual stormy hue to a bright, glittering blue. 

“That day, I promised to love and cherish you forever,” he said, the muscles in his face twitching with the effort of keeping the tears at bay. “I promised to protect you, stay by your side no matter what. I intend to keep as many of those promises as possible.” He bowed his head, pressing his forehead against Dean’s. They leaned into each other with an ease that defied every doubt and fear that Dean had ever felt, every whispered voice in the back of his mind telling him he could never have this, every obstacle he’d placed in his own path to prevent himself from taking a step too far and losing himself in a love that would undoubtedly leave his life cold and empty in its absence, when the day it abandoned him inevitably came... The way they fell into other seemed so easy, so natural, and Dean was struggling to remember why he hadn’t been doing this with his _own_ Cas for the past twelve years. How fucking stupid, to let the fears he’d conjured up for himself as some kind of security blanket keep him from having this. How absolutely fucking ridiculous. 

“You getting sappy on me, Cas?”

Cas laughed, a tragic sound. “Would you prefer it if I stopped?”

“Nah. Keep going.” Dean buried his face in the crook of Cas’ neck, arms coming up to squeeze his waist, a single tear finally rolling down his cheek. “Tell me you love me.”

It was whispered, fractured with vulnerability, and Cas responded in a similar fashion, his voice a low murmur just for them. “I love you, Dean Winchester. My brave man. My insufferable idiot. My saviour. My best friend.”

Dean was shaking in his arms, his face pressed against his skin. His mouth was moving, either whispering words of his own, or simply kissing his neck, drinking in as much of this moment as possible before it all came crashing down around them. It wouldn’t be long now, seconds at most. Dean could feel fresh tears pooling in his eyes, his stomach rolling with anticipation as he watched the scene helplessly, caught between grief and longing. Would his Cas be there beside him when he met his own demise? Would he hold him in his arms and swear to love and protect him until the very end? No. It didn’t seem likely, not unless Dean gave him permission to do so, let him know that’s what he wanted. And when had he ever given Cas the impression that he wanted him in that way? Never. Because he was a coward. Because he hadn’t, up until this moment, realised how fucking pointless it was to keep holding himself back from something that would make him genuinely happy, if all these other dimensions were anything to go by, when the world was literally falling to its knees. 

“I love you,” Dean gasped, kissing Cas on the lips once more as a deafening rumble tore through the bunker, sending up clouds of dust and mortar as the walls of the dungeon began to crumble. “Just hold me. Please, Cas. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m here,” Cas said, shushing him softly. “I’m here, my love.”

He stayed like that, kissing his eyes and holding him close, long after Dean could no longer hear or feel him. He stayed by his side until the very end, just as he’d promised, until a silent explosion of white light engulfed the bunker, temporarily blinding Dean until the feed cut out and the geoscope was bathed in darkness, finally releasing him from its hold. 

Dean tumbled off his chair with a sob, stumbling backwards down the steps leading to the geoscope and straight into the arms of Cas, _his Cas_ , who was watching him with wide eyes, his hands instinctively flying up to Dean’s arms to steady him. He was saying something, probably asking him what the hell he was freaking out about, but all Dean could hear was white noise. Cas had died. Cas had been swallowed by white fire. Cas was gone. But he was also here, now pressing the back of his hand against Dean’s forehead, checking him for a fever. His Cas was still alive, with his tanned skin and baggy eyes and wrinkled coat and stupid, lovely voice. He looked tired, as per usual, but his concern for Dean was taking centre stage. _As per fucking usual_. How had it taken him so long to figure this shit out?

“Dean, what –”

“Don’t you go dying on me,” he said, his voice a pitch too high as all the sounds came rushing back. “I ain’t fucking done with you yet. There’s too much I gotta say.”

Cas was shaking his head, completely bemused. “Dean, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve only just arrived. My leads on Amara all dried up.”

“I don’t care about that right now.”

“Dean –”

“Stop saying my name!”

Cas snapped his mouth shut, adorably at odds about what to do without the ability to say his favourite word, the word that only ever sounded perfect on his lips. “I... But...”

“Just look at me.” Dean lifted a shaking hand to the angel’s face, tracing the lines of worry etched into his skin. For a guy who didn’t require sleep, he looked like he was about to keel over from exhaustion. He was a fucking mess, that’s for sure. But Dean liked him. _Wanted_ him. There was no point in denying it anymore. He didn’t want to carry all these repressed emotions to fucking oblivion. He wanted all the mushy promises and clashing wedding rings and dirty memories to laugh about when he was old and grey and farting sawdust. He wanted a happy ending, goddamnit. 

“Dean,” Cas said, apparently unable to help himself. 

Dean smiled, met his eyes. “My love.”

Cas spluttered, his cheeks flushing, and Dean smothered his mouth with a biting grin, his own face flooded with warmth. It was nice to see those words had the same effect on Cas as they did on him. Nice, also, to feel Cas’ lips moving against his own, albeit slowly, as if he was still puzzling through, trying to figure things out. Dean couldn’t blame him for being confused, but he wasn’t in the mood for explaining things just yet. They’d wasted enough time as it was. He didn’t want to get stuck grieving for a version of him and Cas that no longer existed; there was only one Dean and Cas he had any chance of saving, and they were right here, kissing for the first time in a newly-polished bunker with tears sticking their cheeks together and the smell of freshly-cooked pancakes sweetening the air. 

When they finally pulled apart, Cas was gawking at him with pinkened cheeks and a bewildered smile. Dean opened his mouth to say something, to at least make a start at explaining things, when Jack suddenly came skidding into the library, his 1000-watt smile turning even brighter when he spotted Cas. 

“Cas! You’re back! I’ll tell Mrs. Butters to make some more pancakes.”

He bolted away as quickly as he’d appeared, apparently not noticing Dean and Cas’ close proximity, or otherwise not caring. Dean loved him for that. 

“Mrs. Butters...?” 

Dean looked back at Cas, his heart clenching when he realised the angel was still clutching at his jacket, lips just a hair’s breadth away from his own. They were even prettier after being kissed. “It’s a long story. How about I tell you over breakfast?”

Cas nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching with one of those precious half-smiles. “I’d like that.” 


End file.
